


Something Borrowed, Something Blue

by aerClassic



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, [hands you a cast of oblivious morons]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28330464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerClassic/pseuds/aerClassic
Summary: Yunho regrets allowing Hongjoong entrance to his home almost immediately — which is a new record, even for him.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong
Comments: 13
Kudos: 150





	Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Yunho regrets allowing Hongjoong entrance to his home almost immediately — which is a new record, even for him.

“Hongjoong, no,” he says, trying for firm but Hongjoong is still looking at him like he’s found several inches he can wriggle through. “This has bad idea written all over it and I want no part.”

His friend and coworker scowls fiercely. “You haven’t listened to what I have to say though.”

“I’m not going to fake date you just because your ex invited you to his wedding,” Yunho grumps. “This isn’t a romcom, it’s real life.”

“No, but, hear me out,” Hongjoong pleads, hands rubbing together in supplication. “I pay for your meal at the venue, you get a free stay at a fancy hotel, and we can get drunk and make fun of the groom’s tux for at least three hours before we go home. It’ll be like a mini vacation!”

“A mini vacation where I have to try and one-up your ex?” Yunho laughs in disbelief. “That is the worst plan I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth and I was in the room when you suggested laminating the process guide.”

Yunho ignores the muttered, “Mingi always gets the edges greasy after he takes lunch.”

“It’s over 600 pages,” Yunho deadpans. “So, again, the answer is no, because this plan of yours is stupid and _you’re_ stupid for thinking I’d go along with it.”

“Dude, I will _pay you_ ,” Hongjoong whines, finally, high pitched with something like desperation like it’s somehow going to change Yunho’s mind. “Please, this is the last chance I can rub it in his face that I am doing much better without him in my life.”

“Clearly,” Yunho says, dry. “Because nothing says I’m stable and much happier since the breakup than bringing a fake date to a wedding you were only invited to because his mom still talks to you on Facebook.” Yunho pokes Hongjoong in the cheek. “Which I still think is weird, by the way.”

“She makes good kimchi, I have to stay in her good graces.” Hongjoong does that thing that Yunho hates where his eyes get all big and dewy and his lip starts to wibble as if he’s on the verge of tears. “Please, Yunho. You’re the only person I trust to do this for me.”

The last time he’d pulled out the big guns like this Yunho had been roped into breaking into the office after hours so Hongjoong could fix a mistake before it had the chance to be uploaded at midnight. They set off two alarms and traumatized three members of the cleaning staff before Hongjoong finally logged into his computer and moved a decimal point.

Yunho grits his teeth, doom already beginning to form a cloud above his head. “Because I’m easy to bully?”

“Because you’re the only one I trust not to let me make a fool of myself.” Hongjoong wilts in the chair he bogarted from the kitchenette. “Mingi would egg me on and Seonghwa would actively encourage me to go punch him in the face. I need someone that can get drunk with me and make fun of Jaehwan’s tie without making a spectacle of ourselves. I just want a day where I can prove to myself I’m doing better without him.”

Yunho glares, already hating himself because he knows he’s going to agree. Goddammit. Every time — every single solitary time — Hongjoong makes some ridiculous request or comes to his door upset and asking Yunho to do something skirting the edge of legality and for some reason Yunho is helpless to deny him. 

“Fine,” he relents, telling himself to ignore the way his chest warms at the way Hongjoong seems to brighten. Yunho holds a palm up. “But I refuse to participate in any kind of PDA for this.”

“The PDA is the whole point though,” Hongjoong wails petulantly. “And I know you’re not a prude. I’ve seen you pull multiple times at our bar.”

“It’s not _our_ bar,” Yunho denies, joining Hongjoong at his tiny kitchen table, already lamenting their arrangement. "And I don't _do_ PDA."

“I’ve seen you play tonsil hockey with whatshisface in full view of the entire dance floor at least twice,” Hongjoong continues viciously. He holds up a hand with his fingers spread wide. “At least three cheek kisses, one hour of hand holding, and you have to make goo-goo eyes at me at the bouquet toss.”

"We don't talk about him, that guy stole my PS4." Yunho folds two of Hongjoong’s fingers down. “No kisses, two seconds of hand holding before they sit us down for the ceremony, and I hold you back from trying to steal the bouquet because that part is not _for_ you.”

“Compromise,” Hongjoong offers sweetly. “I don’t try to join the flower toss but you have to kiss me on the mouth in full view of Jaehwan and that bitch from accounting with her stupid—”

Yunho pinches Hongjoong’s lips closed before he can truly get going. “Thought you were over him?”

“I am. Mostly.” Hongjoong bats Yunho’s hand away and crosses his arms to sulk into himself. “Still pisses me off thinking about them though. He couldn’t even wait two months before running off to Hawaii with her for a couple’s retreat. We were together for _five_ years and he couldn’t be assed to suggest going farther than an hour out of town.”

Yunho takes in the depressed slope of Hongjoong’s shoulders, the angry tilt to his mouth, the ferocity in his eyes and sighs deeply. 

“No tongue.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“I’ll do all the PDA you want and even kiss you in front of Jaehwan, but no tongue allowed.” Yunho holds up his hand with his pinky finger outstretched. “Deal?” 

“Deal.” Hongjoong eagerly interlocks their fingers. “You’re a life saver, Yunho. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably lose your job and ruin a wedding,” Yunho comments dryly. He kicks at Hongjoong’s ankles. “Come on, buy me lunch while we figure out the history of our sordid love affair to make this believable.”

**\-----------**

“So, a little birdy told me you’ve acquiesced to a certain diminutive junior accountant’s demands,” Seonghwa says the next day — a Monday — hip propped on Yunho’s desk and leaning on his right arm with an expression on his face that Yunho has learned the hard way means terrible, awful things are about to transpire. “How sweet of you.”

“He bullied me,” Yunho reassures, refusing to make eye contact in favor of typing up another genial email to remind one of their partners to pay their invoice before the next pay period rolls over. “Threatened me with a knife and everything. And since when do you break out the big words? Been reading the dictionary in your down time?”

"Yeosang has been on a Scrabble kick." Seonghwa bends so they’re forced to make eye contact. “Really? You're going with the bullying angle? Because I’m fairly sure all he had to do was bat his pretty lashes and you were putty in his hands.”

Yunho shoots Seonghwa a look. Seonghwa has known, before Yunho himself knew, just how easily he folds when Hongjoong so much as sighs too loud in the office and there’s a whole underground betting pool on how long it’s going to take for Yunho to admit it out loud. Even Mingi, his closest friend and the only person in the office who has seen him nude, has made offhand comments about how easily Yunho seems to agree to Hongjoong’s whims when no one else will. _Especially_ when no one else will.

“Jaehwan’s an asshole,” Yunho tries. “It’ll be fun to see his smug rat face get taken down a peg seeing Hongjoong out with me.”

"Now you sound just like Hongjoong," Seonghwa hums. “Really?”

“Really really.” Yunho slides one of his folders over toward Seonghwa’s perch on his desk. “Leave me alone and you can earn the commission for this account.”

Seonghwa doesn’t immediately grab the thick stack for himself, which makes Yunho so nervous he fucks up his perfect, typo-free email. Instead, his friend leans closer. “Hey. Seriously, are you going to be okay doing this?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying.” Yunho focuses on his screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard while he tries to remember how to sound customer service friendly, mild as milk yet still firm enough to get paid. “It’s just a friendly fake date thing between friends.”

Seonghwa sighs heavily, but grabs the folder anyway. “You’re a grown man so I’m not going to try and talk you out of this, but—”

He stops.

Yunho finally glances up. “But?”

“Just...be careful.” Seonghwa visibly chews his lips. “I’d hate to see you get your feelings hurt over this.”

Their systems are scheduled for maintenance in two hours, by which time Yunho had endeavored to carve out a slice of time to either cry about his rotten luck or to...also cry about getting up close and personal with Hongjoong’s mouth with no feelings attached whatsoever. They’ve been friends for years now, even before Jaehwan and his stupid face came into the picture, and the fact Hongjoong picked _him_ out of a lineup of others he trusts to do this makes his chest clench up tight with something he wishes wasn’t hope. 

Yunho looks his screen without seeing it. 

“We’re just going to drink champagne and eat canapés and make fun of Jaehwan’s tie for three hours.” He can see Seonghwa’s expression sour in the reflection of his screen. “I’ll be fine, hyung, I promise.”

“Alright.” Seonghwa scrapes a careful hand through Yunho’s hair. “The proverbial door to my cubicle is open should you need a place to vent.”

He gets a thirty minute reprieve until their designated lunch break rolls around and Hongjoong pokes his head over Yunho’s cubicle wall with a grin and brown bag held triumphantly over his head.

“Hey, boyfriend! I made us lunch,” he yells so that it echoes across the room.

Yunho barely resists the urge to hold his head in his hands because there is a less than zero percent chance the whole office heard him.

“I thought we agreed not to call each other that outside of the wedding and the reception,” Yunho moans. “Jesus christ, Hongjoong.”

“Did we,” Hongjoong wonders, totally unconcerned. “Well, too late now. Come eat lunch with me! I found a recipe I think turned out okay for once and if it’s gross I’ll treat you to the sushi place you like.”

In the time they’ve known each other, Hongjoong’s creations in the kitchen have yielded nothing but horror. Yunho has yet to figure out how someone can ruin a dish by following the recipe yet somehow Hongjoong does it every time. Hongjoong says he modifies everything because of the so-called creative process, Yunho just thinks he can’t take direction to save his life. Doesn’t stop Yunho from trying everything put in front of him though.

They end up at the sushi place.

“Why did you think two cups of salt would be a good idea?” Yunho questions in defense of his poor, abused taste buds. 

Hongjoong guiltily slides an extra cucumber roll to Yunho’s plate. “Leave me alone.”

“Were you trying to pickle the chicken?” Yunho accepts the mild slice of rice and cucumber, holds it accusingly at Hongjoong’s face with his chopsticks. “I refuse to try your kitchen creations going forward. No more, dude.”

“Aw, come on,” Hongjoong cajoles. “You’re the only one who humors me. I did good that one time, didn’t I? With the salad?”

“Yeah, because it’s impossible to fuck up chopped lettuce and vegetables, even for you.” Yunho thinks fondly of the days he wasn’t so dickwhipped he’d let Hongjoong feed him nightmares on a plate. “Though, now that I think about it—”

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint.” Hongjoong pouts down at his plates of sashimi. “No more offering you my kitchen experiments.”

“Unless you actually follow the recipe,” Yunho says.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Anyway. Do you have a suit for next weekend? I need you to look super amazing so Jaehwan knows what he’s missed out on.” He eyes Yunho speculatively across the table. “Shouldn’t be too hard, honestly.”

Yunho blinks. “No?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “I mean, you’re really attractive even when you’re in your work clothes, so if you wear anything even remotely form fitting you’ll upstage Jaehwan by several orders of magnitude.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

Hongjoong squints at him. “Yes? I do have functioning eyeballs, Yunho.”

Stomach fluttering, Yunho rolls his lips between his teeth to keep from smiling too hard and giving himself away. “Oh.”

“Yes _oh,_ ” Hongjoong says exasperatedly. “Jaehwan will really get pissed off because I’m bringing you, anyway. I can’t wait to see the expression on his evil little ratfuck face—”

“Why me?” Yunho asks, more to derail Hongjoong’s ex-boyfriend rant than anything else.

Hongjoong blinks at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Why would showing up with me really make him mad,” Yunho reiterates. “I mean, he’s known me as long as I’ve known you. Shouldn’t be too much of a shock to see me there, should it?”

“He—you—um—” Hongjoong stumbles and, in lieu of actually answering the question, stuffs two tempura shrimp into his mouth to mumble incomprehensibly around the mouthful. 

Yunho allows the subject to drop since clearly it’s an uncomfortable subject, or at least one Hongjoong is unwilling to answer. He knows enough about their boundaries not to push for a response before Hongjoong is ready to reveal it, but he files it away as another of Hongjoong’s eccentricities to revisit on another day. Maybe sometime during the wedding when Hongjoong is invariably drunk on champagne and crying about the love of his life running away with Hyunjin from accounting less than a year after the break up. 

Why Jaehwan decided to lose it all in favor of chasing after another voluptuous financial department tail is anyone’s guess. God knows Yunho doesn’t understand why anyone who had Hongjoong would even think about letting him go.

He steals one of Hongjoong’s remaining tempura shrimp. “I’ve got a suit rented already, don’t worry.”

Hongjoong breathes a heavy sigh of relief. “Good.” 

Yunho wants to ask why. He wants to know what seeing him in a suit will do to Jaehwan’s psyche. He wants to shake Hongjoong by the shoulders and tell him to quit obsessing over a guy who never appreciated him in the first place. He wants to take Hongjoong to _fucking Hawaii_.

“I’ll send you a picture of it hanging up so you can coordinate,” Yunho says to avoid booking plane tickets on his phone. 

“Okay.” Hongjoong beams at him before leaning over to nab the lion’s share of Yunho’s wasabi, most probably because he knows Yunho is incapable of handling the taste. “Send me a picture of you wearing it so I can post it on my Insta. I want it to be really obvious how head over heels I am for you before we make our grand entrance.”

Delightful. Yunho sulkily chews a slice of pickled ginger and curses his traitorous heart for beating double time over an offhand comment about their fake — so very, very fake — relationship.

**\-----------**

Mingi buys him dinner and takes him to get drinks at a bar that Hongjoong does not also frequent because Mingi is a saint and also knows far too much about how Yunho functions when he’s in a _Hongjoong’s Terrible Ideas_ spiral. 

“So,” Mingi says over watered down gin and tonic. “Hongjoong.”

“Don’t,” Yunho tries. “I’m just being a good friend.”

“A good friend.” 

Mingi drops the cherry he’d saved from his last drink into Yunho’s nearly empty glass. If that wasn’t a metaphor for their embarrassing history together, Yunho isn’t sure what is and very carefully does not remember bursting into tears in the middle of his best friend's bedroom because Mingi wasn't the size and shape of the beat of his heart the way Hongjoong was. 

They way he _still_ is. 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Yunho downs the last bit of liquid without answering. 

Mingi audibly rolls his eyes, already sliding his card over the counter so the bartender can ring up another round of weak gin and weaker tonic. “Seriously, how exactly did he convince you to fake date him for a weekend? I know you’re whipped, but, jesus christ, I thought you had more of a spine to tell him no for once.”

The tumbler is cut glass and ribbed interestingly at the bottom. The bar they’re at now brands the bottom bands with their name and the ridged letters cut into his skin when Yunho grips the base too hard.

“I wanted to,” he says in his defense. “I really tried, but you know what Hongjoong looks like when he really needs something.”

Mingi’s brows rise high on his forehead.

“ _Wants_ something,” Yunho amends with a deep sigh and a deeper blush staining his cheeks down to his neck. “He’s really convincing.”

Mingi shoots him a sympathetic look over the rim of his own glass but doesn’t press for more information. Yunho appreciates his silence, wishing he had more willpower to yank himself out from beneath Hongjoong’s heel before he lands in hotter water than a weekend getaway getting drunk on someone else’s dime.

It’s only when they’re making their way back to Mingi’s apartment to crash that his friend bursts the bubble of mutual silence. 

“Promise me you’ll either say something to him about how you feel or move on after this,” Mingi demands at the entrance to the apartment complex. “You deserve better than being his perpetual whipping boy, Yunho.”

Yunho scrunches his shoulders up tight next to his ears, hunched in on himself out of shame. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Mingi spits. “Look, I know you like Hongjoong, god knows I do too to a lesser extent, but you can’t go on being dragged around by him for no other reason than being incapable of telling him no.” 

Yunho can feel the very tips of Mingi’s fingers digging into his shoulder blades when his best friend goes to grip his shoulders, the narrow-eyed laser focus of his gaze directed to Yunho’s face, which he avoids because it makes him feel laid bare and vulnerable. 

“Yunho.”

“I’ll try, I promise,” Yunho finally relents. “After the wedding, I’ll tell him.”

Mingi eyes him dubiously. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”

“I—” Yunho’s response is cut off by his phone ringing, Hongjoong’s nickname he’d put in Yunho’s phone himself flashing urgently across the display. He stares at it, still a little too buzzed to parse what’s happening, until Mingi pokes him pointedly in the ribs.

“Might want to answer that.”

“Good evening, fake boyfriend,” Hongjoong greets once Yunho manages to get his numb fingers to work and he’ll be damned if his heart doesn’t trip over itself over the title. “Are you doing anything important right now?”

Yunho glances at Mingi digging for his keys. “Not—not really, just hanging out with Mingi for a bit. Why? What’s up?”

“Oh.” Hongjoong’s voice flattens and goes quiet.

“Hongjoong?”

His coworker breathes in sharply and says, “I’m sorry, if I had known you were out—um, nevermind about me. You two have a good night!”

Yunho groans down at the receiver. “Just tell me whatever it is you need. Did you lock yourself out again?”

The line remains dead for a long stretch before Hongjoong, low and bashful and clearly sulking, mumbles a sad, “Yeah.”

“What did we say about at least giving your neighbor a spare the last time this happened?” Yunho waves Mingi inside apologetically, extremely aware of the judgmental eyebrows getting thrown in his direction and the mouthed _tell him_ Yunho will continue to ignore. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“I really don’t know what I’d do without you,” Hongjoong says gratefully, so sincere it makes Yunho’s fingers tingle a little with how pleased he is about it. “Thank you, Yunho.”

“Give your neighbor a damned key already,” Yunho says through the lump in his throat.

**\-----------**

When he’d first joined the firm, Yunho was fresh out of school, clutching a diploma and his student debt, and hadn’t been able to befriend anyone in the company for a solid two days. No one wanted to be saddled with the newbie, apparently, and he remembers being so upset about it he’d hid away in the third floor accounting bathroom to have a wholesome cry about it on his lunch break. Because the universe hated him, Hongjoong was the one to follow the sound of stifled cries and found Yunho red faced and teary on the grimy floor next to the sink.

“You look like hell,” Hongjoong told him, point blank. “Let’s go get coffee and you can bitch to me about it, yeah?”

“The coffee here sucks,” Yunho said, hastily scrubbing at his face. 

Hongjoong had offered him a wad of toilet paper stolen from the last stall. “Oh, dude, I know. I meant let’s go get the good shit at that fancy place with all the bread in the window two streets over.” 

When he grinned, his teeth were pearl white. His lips were crooked. The scrunch of his cheeks made his eyes nearly disappear. 

Blinded, Yunho agreed and added, “I want something with enough sugar that I don’t sleep for a year.”

“Man after my own heart,” Hongjoong had cooed, offering his hand to help Yunho up from the floor. “I’m Hongjoong, by the way. You must be Jeong Yunho, someone mentioned a new hire this morning.”

“Probably prefaced by how much they don’t like me,” Yunho sighed. He’d accepted Hongjoong’s helping hand, and even back then noted how different it was in comparison to his own yet so strong he could yank Yunho up with a simple tug. 

Hongjoong only grinned. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about this place. Come on, coffee and scones await!”

  
**\-----------**   
  


Hongjoong grimaces up at him from his position on the floor outside his very solid, very locked door. “I really am sorry for interrupting your Mingi time tonight. Is he mad at me? I bet he’s mad at me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Yunho ruffles the crown of Hongjoong’s hair while he digs out the extra key. “And Mingi loves you. Why would he be mad?”

Aside from being angry on Yunho’s behalf for being constantly jerked around by a guy who is so emotionally unavailable he may as well live on a different planet. Mingi isn’t the type to confront Hongjoong about it though, because being actively mean to Hongjoong in any capacity feels like kicking a puppy. Worse in the month following Jaehwan’s sudden departure from Hongjoong’s life and Yunho watched him haunt the walls of the cubicle labyrinth feeling like he was watching a baby seal get hunted in slow motion. 

Hongjoong curls his knees upward to his chin. “Because I stole you away from your date night and gave him blue balls.”

Yunho freezes with the key barely in the lock. “What.”

He can see Hongjoong’s ears redden. “Look, I know you don’t like to talk about it for whatever reason, but I’m not dumb. You two have been together for, what, like, three years? More or less?”

Yunho wonders, in a vague hazy sort of way, if he’s suffered a stroke on the walk over or maybe tripped somehow into the Upside-Down where everything is wrong and Hongjoong thinks he’s been dating Mingi. Mingi, who is arguably his best friend and has a list as long as Yunho's forearm of why the two of them dating for real would be as terrible in practice as it was in theory. Mainly because Yunho was so attached to one Kim Hongjoong, currently giving him heart palpitations in the middle of a hallway.

“Okay, number one: your door is open,” Yunho finally settles on, twisting the knob and hustling Hongjoong into his apartment. “Number two: what the fuck? Mingi and I aren’t dating.”

Hongjoong, at least, has enough shame left to burn so red in his cheeks that even his neck goes pink. “But—”

“No.” Yunho leaves him at the entrance to pilfer some of Hongjoong’s fancy brand coffee. He needs to be sober approximately twenty minutes ago. “Also, if you thought we were together, _why_ did you ask me to fake date you for a wedding?”

Hongjoong covers his face with his hands. “Open relationship?”

“Oh my god,” Yunho despairs. “What about me does not scream exclusivity?”

“I just assumed you guys were more off and on than anything else.” Hongjoong accepts the mug of coffee Yunho passes him across the kitchen counter with his nose scrunched up defensively. “Like when you made out with the bar dude I assumed it was to make Mingi jealous. Or get him going, I don’t know because I try not to think about it.”

“Need I remind you we don’t talk about that dude. He _stole_ my _PS4_.” Yunho hisses, scrapes a palm down his face and feels the burgeoning prickle of day old stubble against his fingers. “Mingi and I tried it out once and decided we were better off being each other’s wingman.”

Yunho doesn’t mention the part where it’s only because he cried while getting fingered. He’s going to take that particular memory to the grave.

Hongjoong drums his nails along the countertop, staring pensively at his fingers. “Is it selfish of me to be happy you’re still single?”

Coffee goes down the wrong pipe, the acidic burn of it catching in his lungs making him cough so hard Hongjoong scrambles to the other side of the counter to beat against Yunho’s back in an effort to help.

“Are you dying?” Hongjoong asks seriously. “Because I can’t have dead bodies in this apartment if I want my security deposit back. Go out to the balcony at least.”

“I hate you so much,” Yunho wheezes. “I’m going to bleed all over your living room as payback.”

Hongjoong stifles a snort of laughter, but his hand stays rubbing gentling circles along Yunho’s spine. While nice, it doesn’t really help Yunho’s still spiking blood pressure.

“Happy I’m still single, huh,” Yunho says later, after he’d cleaned up the spray of coffee and spit from Hongjoong’s countertops and changed into one of the shirts he left here the last time he’d been roped into doing home improvements to Hongjoong’s kitchen cabinets and stained almost everything _but_ the awful wood veneer. “Care to elaborate?”

Hongjoong had followed him through the apartment to watch him change and get un-coffee’d with a hip propped against the doorway of the master bathroom, arms crossed, and pursing his mouth at the floor. “I already said it’s because I’m selfish.”

Yunho considers him in the reflection of the mirror. “That doesn’t really tell me much.”

Hongjoong grumbles his way from the doorway to face planting into his huge bed. “Next question. You wanna stay here tonight?”

Yunho pauses at the foot of the bed watching Hongjoong kick his feet in the air like a preteen about to pull out their diary to gossip about cute boys and make crank calls to pizza parlors. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stayed here overnight, even when Jaehwan was still in the picture and giving Yunho evil eyes in the company cafeteria every time he existed within five feet of Hongjoong. Worse when Hongjoong would smile at him. But Jaehwan is a dick and Yunho refuses to feel guilty about it.

“I don’t have a toothbrush or anything,” Yunho tries, catching one of Hongjoong’s flailing feet to forcefully roll him over.

“I have a new one in the cabinet.” Hongjoong pouts at him, hair a wreck. “Plus it’ll be helpful to sell the illusion if we show up to work at the same time tomorrow.”

When Yunho doesn’t immediately say yes, Hongjoong adds, “And we haven’t cuddled in like a week. A man has needs, Yunho.”

“You say that as if we weren’t in a huge pile with Seonghwa and Yeosang not three days ago. I distinctly remember having to move your elbow out of my face.”

Seonghwa had actually shown up at the door with Yeosang holding Hongjoong up by his pits, their mutual friend hung in the space between them like a sad, wet cat glaring balefully at the flooring. Yunho hadn’t asked, since most of the time he didn't get an answer, but allowed the three of them to crowd his tiny couch until they ended on the floor in an impromptu blanket fort, Yeosang sandwiched between them while Seonghwa cleaned up the empty beer bottles. 

Now that he thinks about it, that was probably the day Hongjoong received the wedding invite. He probably cooked up the crazy-eyed idea about showing up with Yunho on his arm while they were all pretending not to cry during the beginning of Up.

“That doesn’t count because Yeosang was in the way.” Hongjoong makes grabbing motions with his hands like a toddler. “ _Please_ , Yunho? For me?”

“Someday I’m going to figure out how to say no to you,” Yunho threatens.

Hongjoong pulls him greedily by the arms until Yunho is forced to drape himself along his front, hooking his ankles over Yunho’s waist and making a happy noise at his accomplishment. “But not today, which is the important part.”

Yunho idly pushes his fingers through Hongjoong’s dark hair. “Am I allowed to leave to brush my teeth?”

“You’re not allowed to do anything ever unless I am attached to you.” Hongjoong squeezes him tighter. “It’s the new rule.”

“Even when I’m in the bathroom?” Yunho rolls them sideways so he can wedge his arms over Hongjoong’s shoulders. “The shower? Surely there are limits.”

“A brief reprieve if you need to use the toilet, but that’s it.” Hongjoong props his chin on Yunho’s chest and grins wide. 

Not bothering to resist the urge to poke the dimple creased on Hongjoong’s cheek, Yunho laughs. “And the shower?”

“Especially the shower,” Hongjoong says with a saucy wiggle of his eyebrows. 

They’ve been friends for so long at this point Yunho should be used to the casual attempts at friendly flirting. Hongjoong has done it literally since day one, but then Jaehwan happened and any ideas Yunho had about where it was going were summarily crushed beneath Jaehwan’s well polished shoes. It had taken Mingi and Jongho two hours before they were able to get the news out of him while Yunho blubbered into a huge tub of ice cream in the middle of their kitchen floor, heart crushed to enough pieces to match the chocolate chips sprinkled through the oversized spoonfuls of Rocky Road.

“I’ll stay,” Yunho whispers. “But I get to be the little spoon.”

“Duh,” Hongjoong slurs drowsily against his chest.

**\-----------**

Yunho wakes up before his alarm with Hongjoong sprawled half-way across his chest, Hongjoong’s leg sandwiched between his thighs, and Hongjoong’s morning wood digging into his hip. He breathes slow and even trying to compartmentalize the feelings crowding in his chest at Hongjoong’s sleep soft expression, at the drool pooled on his shoulder, at the sweet curl of Hongjoong’s fingers in his sleep shirt — unthinkingly possessive. He slides out from beneath Hongjoong’s hold gently, shushing him quietly when Hongjoong’s face screws up from the lack of warmth.

Hongjoong finds him in the kitchen making breakfast, wrapping his arms around Yunho’s waist grumbling sleepily into Yunho’s spine.

“Good morning to you too, dear,” Yunho says sarcastically. 

Hongjoong hums, his voice is still gravel rough and fuzzy with sleep. “What’re you makin’?”

“Pancakes.” Yunho cups a hand over Hongjoong’s fingers to keep them from getting splashed with hot butter. “Did you sleep okay?”

He can feel Hongjoong nod. “Better than I have in years.”

That makes Yunho pause with the spatula hovering over the bubbling batter in the pan while his blood froze. “What about when Jaehwan was here?”

“He never lived with me,” Hongjoong snorts. “He kicked like a mule in his sleep so I rarely had him spend the night.”

The edges are beginning to brown and still Yunho can’t seem to make his muscles move. “Why were you with him for so long if you couldn’t even cohabitate?”

No answer is forthcoming for a long seemingly endless moment as Hongjoong’s arms go rigid against Yunho’s belly. 

“I was lonely,” Hongjoong finally admits guiltily. “Being with him was better than being alone, so.”

The edges are a little too browned but the rest seems salvageable, so Yunho flips the last dab of batter and cuts the heat. He’s never pretended to understand the way Hongjoong’s mind works, but still. A five year relationship couldn’t have possibly been based solely on the fact Hongjoong didn’t want to be alone.

“But not lonely enough to have him move in?” Yunho asks, confused. 

Hongjoong sighs deeply, grinding his head against Yunho’s back. “Do we really have to talk about this so early in the morning? I haven't even had caffeine yet.”

“It would help me understand why you’re so pissed off about him getting married when you weren’t even living together after _five years_ , but, sure, let’s change the subject,” Yunho mocks, but clearly it doesn’t land because Hongjoong slaps his hands against Yunho’s navel and says, “Great!”

“So the story is we’ve been dating in secret for three months and only now felt like confirming the rumors because it's getting serious,” Hongjoong says through a mouthful of pancake. “Who confessed first?”

“ _You_ because I refuse to be labeled the homewrecker.” 

Yunho stabs viciously at his plate. They’ve been over this twice now and each time is a punch directly to his solar plexus. He wants this for _real_. He wants to take Hongjoong on dates, wants to watch him wake up sleepy-eyed and drooling on his shirt. He’d give his left arm to be able to hold Hongjoong’s hand in the middle of a busy intersection telling anyone who’ll listen how much he adores him while Hongjoong’s face turns brighter than the traffic lights. He craves so much, all the time, that discussing it so cavalierly makes his whole body clench up with a despairing sort of want.

Hongjoong hooks their ankles together beneath the table. “You know it would be considered mutual homewrecking, right? Assuming people think we started this before the breakup.”

Yunho winces. “I’m trying not to think about being labeled part and party to a cheating scandal.”

“You’re not the one getting married after dating for only nine months,” Hongjoong tells him, dry. “I highly doubt anyone is going to look at us and start screaming adulterers or whatever it is you’re so worried about.”

“But they could,” Yunho mutters in his own defense. He can feel heat inundate his cheeks the longer Hongjoong keeps their ankles twisted up intimately for no other reason than he can, because Yunho is honest enough to admit he’s not going to be the first to pull away from Hongjoong. Pathetic.

Hongjoong sways their legs together. “They could also say we’re a lot better for each other than Jaehwan and I ever were. Stop worrying about what other people think and worry about what _you_ think.” He slides half of his remaining pancake to Yunho’s plate. “For strength.”

“I’m going to need more than strength to get through today,” Yunho tells him feelingly while Hongjoong adjusts the knot of his tie for him outside of the huge double doors of their workplace. “How am I supposed to look anyone in the eye again when it gets revealed we were lying?”

Hongjoong taps the knot when he’s finished and grins, slant-mouthed, face tilted toward the sun and squinting. “So don’t tell them.”

“Hongjoong,” Yunho says in warning.

His friend blows a raspberry. “What did I say about worrying what anyone thinks? We’ll just have a very public breakup and go back to being super awesome best friends within a day.”

Their receptionist waves them inside with wide-eyes. Yunho can see her furiously typing something out on her phone in his periphery and sends a solemn promise to the universe he will actually grow balls and get over Hongjoong if they can just make it up to their respective cubicles without getting accosted by the gossip mill.

“I don’t think we’d be able to go back to being friends that quickly if we were actually dating and broke up.” Yunho’s face in the reflective surface of the elevator walls is pale. “We probably couldn’t talk to each other for, like, at least a month.”

Hongjoong frowns and latches himself to Yunho’s suit jacket. “Unacceptable. I have a Yunho quota I have to meet every day or else I will wither away to dust.”

“Dramatic.”

“It’s the truth,” Hongjoong says, with every outward appearance of sincerity, “I need a minimum of five minutes seeing your face or else I can’t function.” The chime of Yunho’s floor rings out before he can formulate a response and Hongjoong hustles him out of the elevator with a wave and a sweet, “See you at lunch, lover!”

“I’m going to murder you,” Yunho hisses back. 

Hongjoong only blows him a kiss and wiggles his fingers cutely until the doors close and Yunho is left standing in the hallway listening to several coworkers whisper behind their hands.

**\-----------**

Seonghwa is already waiting for him in Yunho’s office chair while Jongho has his upper body propped along the topmost edge of the cubicle wall, unreadable expressions on their faces.

“It’s way too early in the morning to be dealing with either of you,” Yunho grumps and tries to wave them away. “ _Shoo!_ ”

“Mingi told me you’re dating Hongjoong,” Jongho says. 

“Fake dating,” Seonghwa corrects. “Though it remains to be seen if anything else comes from it.”

“Nothing is going to come from going to a wedding together as a joke,” Yunho reassures them, jostling his chair until Seonghwa deigns to remove himself from Yunho’s workspace. “Stop rubbing my nose in it.”

Seonghwa mimes polishing his nails on his own suit jacket, blowing the imaginary dust away with a smirk. “You don’t know Hongjoong like I do.”

He hasn’t even been able to log in to the system yet and already Yunho feels his daily required migraine forming directly behind his right eyeball. It is, unsurprisingly, the size and shape of Seonghwa’s smarmy expression and Jongho’s bright-eyed interest in Yunho’s tumbleweed ridden ghost town of a love life.

“Quit teasing me or I’ll tell Yeosang you’re sneaking croissants without him.”

Jongho covers his laughter with a cough. Seonghwa only pouts and drapes his arms over Yunho’s shoulders. 

“You’re mean,” he complains. “Seriously though, we heard you two showed up together this morning.”

“It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes,” Yunho says wonderingly.

“Yujin’s network is vast and her texting speed is faster than the speed of light,” Jongho informs him sympathetically. "We're pretty sure she's breaking all known physics of the universe on a daily basis."

“I desperately want to know what her actual wpm is,” Seonghwa agrees. “But really we just wanted to check up on you before anyone else comes by to offer congratulations.”

Jongho sends the awful fluorescent lighting a wistful sigh. “I tried to buy balloons but hyung wouldn’t let me.”

“Thank you, but I’m really okay with it. Mostly,” Yunho directs to Seonghwa, and to Jongho he says, “You are the literal devil.”

“Good of you to notice,” Jongho thanks him. “If it makes you feel better, I heard Hongjoong’s entire floor decorated his cubicle in crepe party streamers and a bunch of signs that say something like _congrats on the upgrade_.”

He says it bland, but it’s with such specificity Yunho has to roll his lips between his teeth to keep from smiling. “You were the one to decorate it, weren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Jongho announces sweetly over the sound of Seonghwa burying his face against Yunho's neck to giggle loudly against his ear. “But, speaking of, I seem to have come into possession of a ton of extra neon pink party streamers. You need any?”

“I’m good,” Yunho denies with a laugh. “Might want to dispose of the evidence before Hongjoong finds out you did it though.”

Jongho’s face flickers over to fear for a split second before he’s bowing out of the conversation with a quick, “Excuse me,” and, presumably, power walking back to his stockpile of decorations so he can throw them into the incinerator. 

Seonghwa leaves him with a whispered, “Good luck.”

**\-----------**

Hongjoong finds him during their mutual lunch break wearing an odd expression and holding what appears to be a carefully selected gift basket wrapped in cellophane encapsulating newlywed self-help books. One titled _How Teamwork Makes the Dream Work_ pokes the underside of Hongjoong’s chin.

“So, I may have miscalculated how invested this company is in our love lives,” he says, embarrassed, over the crinkling sound of plastic. “Uh. There are two bottles of champagne on my desk. _Why_ are there two bottles of champagne on my desk?”

“Explain why I have a new stockpile of condoms in my desk drawer and I’ll tell you,” Yunho replies. He wishes it was a joke, but everyone on his floor were apparently perverts who have never even glanced at the rulebook about inappropriate gifts in the workplace. He’d complain except it saves him from buying a new box after his stash at home had gone unused for so long the entire thing had expired before he’d been able to unwrap it. “We work with weirdos.”

“Clearly.” Hongjoong fidgets nervously, which is so strange Yunho can’t help but to wonder if he’s coming down with something. Hongjoong has never once been nervous about _anything_ since Yunho has known him. Even when the company reps were making the rounds commenting on everyone’s work ethic and taking notes about case file distribution. “Hey, do you think this was maybe not the best idea?”

“You don't say,” Yunho moans tiredly. “It's a little too late to be saying that now, _dear_.”

“Right.” Hongjoong keeps looking at him oddly, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle on Yunho’s face. “Uh. You wanna — lunch?”

“I want to run away to a different part of the country, but I’ll settle for lunch.” Yunho grabs his wallet and his keys, forgoes taking his phone considering Mingi and Seonghwa have been sending him lewd memes for the last hour and he needs a break. "You're buying."

"Aren't I always," Hongjoong questions, clutching his basket to his chest and flushing pink. "Let's get out of the office for it. These people are making me feel weird."

"Weird how?" He asks on the way down, now in possession of the offending basket so he can shove it into the backseat of Hongjoong's aging Honda. They pass the front desk where Yujin sends Yunho overwhelmed and giddy glances over the edge of her monitor, her phone once again in her hands where she's typing without looking at her fingers.

In the parking lot, Hongjoong hunches his shoulders over the wheel of his car. "Just...some of the stuff they're saying is weird and confusing and I don't like it."

"So tell them to stop or let them know it's just a joke," Yunho offers, rubbing a soothing hand over Hongjoong's neck now that they're out of public view and on the way to get burgers. "It's early enough the backlash won't be as bad."

Hongjoong's hands flex on the wheel, mouth tightening, and he growls out, "No," like he's mad Yunho would dare even suggest they not pretend to date.

"Is it really worth the trauma to your delicate sensibilities just to try and show up your ex on his big day," Yunho says with the exasperation of someone who knows intimately the width and breadth of Hongjoong's stubbornness. "We can still go to smack talk the decorations as friends, you know."

Hongjoong scowls fiercely into traffic. "Stop trying to break up with me, it's not going to work."

"We're not actually dating," Yunho feels compelled to remind him.

Hongjoong glares at him, "What?"

"We're not actually dating so I can't actually break up with you," Yunho explains. He keeps his gaze focused on the cars in front of them, at the traffic light, at the pedestrians waiting impatiently on the sidelines for the crosswalk to finally turn green. He can see Hongjoong's knuckles whitening in his periphery.

"Right. Yeah." 

The drive is mostly silent under the sound of the engine squealing the the radio finally picking up midday talk shows about celebrity gossip. Lunch is too, until Hongjoong checks his phone and reminds Yunho he needs a picture of him in the tailored suit so he can post the thirst trap on his social media. 

**\-----------**

The rest of the days leading up to the wedding pass in much the same fashion. Seemingly everyone on their respective floors treat their new — fake, Yunho has to remind himself constantly, it’s _fake —_ relationship like they’re particularly interesting zoo animals to be gawked at in the hallways and meeting rooms. Seonghwa and Mingi have thankfully taken up the mantle to distract anyone that tries to make a pitstop at Yunho’s desk to ask how things are going, how long it took for Hongjoong to finally admit he was interested, and more often than not Yunho goes home wondering if maybe he’s missed something in their day to day interaction that would have so many people convinced so thoroughly this soon into the ruse.

Their standing lunch date doesn’t change much, though Hongjoong does take great pleasure in showing Yunho the comments from friends and coworkers beneath the picture he’d posted on instagram with a filthy tagline that makes Yunho’s ears burn. It’s one thing to laugh off Hongjoong’s flirtations in real life, it’s a whole other ballgame when he’s reading — in Hongjoong’s words with Hongjoong’s inflection — how hot Hongjoong thinks Yunho looks in a suit.

“This one says I should peel you out of it only using my teeth,” Hongjoong gleefully informs him over bulgogi because he is the _worst_ and enjoys basking in Yunho’s discomfort. “Oh my god, when we get to the hotel I have to take a picture of your tux on the floor. I think Jimin might actually pop a blood vessel.”

Yunho debates burying his face into the glowing red metal bars on the inset table grill. “Can we maybe not broadcast to the internet we’re pretend fucking?”

“No one is going to believe I didn’t jump your bones the instant I see you actually wearing the suit, so, yes, we do,” Hongjoong explains while hunched over his phone. “By the way, can you bring one of those condom boxes with you?”

Yunho chokes, sputtering water back into his cup, and wheezes, “Excuse me?”

Hongjoong offers only a pinched mouth look as if he thinks Yunho is being willfully obtuse. “So I can have the box opened strategically in the background. Oh, grab some lube too.”

“Bring your own lube,” Yunho demands, face numb from the sudden shock. “I’m not sure this is what I signed up for.”

“Sure it is.” Hongjoong drops a few slices of pickled radish on Yunho’s plate with a guileless flutter of his lashes. “Plus you love me too much to say no, admit it.”

“I think I liked it better when you were still dating Jaehwan and directing all your weird sexual fantasies on him,” Yunho mutters, like a _liar_ , into his mound of marinated beef.

Hongjoong’s expression shutters and he says, almost too quiet to be heard, “I don’t.”

Yunho made it a point never to ask questions about Hongjoong’s love life or what dating Jaehwan was like, mostly because he was selfish and knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the imagery of Hongjoong being pampered and pressed into someone else’s bed without becoming so upset over it he’d cry. The ugly truth of the matter is that he’s been so hyper focused on Hongjoong, _alone_ , that even the mental picture of him happy in a relationship makes Yunho’s stomach sour with a bubbling jealous nausea — a completely inappropriate and awful emotional response to the happiness of one of his closest friends. To be fair, Hongjoong didn’t seem very keen on mentioning it either, always steering their conversations to easier subjects like work and the fact Seonghwa still hadn’t gotten his head out of his ass and proposed to Yeosang after god knows how many years together.

They share a mutual fondness for keeping their romantic entanglements secret for which Yunho is immensely grateful.

“Lube and condoms does seem a bit overkill though,” Yunho tries in an effort to keep Hongjoong’s mood from dropping into the _Jaehwan and Hyunjin are buttholes of the highest order_ spiral.

“Maybe.” Hongjoong traps Yunho’s feet under the table, a new habit. “Bring them just in case though.”

**\-----------**

Packing is a nightmare. Yunho’s not the biggest fan of travel and he can never parse just how much of any one thing he’s going to need even if it’s a short stay somewhere overnight. Nearly every time he ends up carrying at least three tote bags full of clothing he never ends up wearing and getting pissed at himself, so he enlists Hongjoong’s help.

“Pack something sexy,” his friend suggests from his place sprawled across Yunho’s bed being completely and unrepentantly unhelpful on purpose. “Do you own a g-string?”

“Even if I did, I’m not going to _show you_ ,” Yunho whimpers out of sheer mortification, mostly because he has an entire drawer of comfortable jockstraps he hasn’t been able to put into use for god knows how long. “Hongjoong, be serious.”

Hongjoong twists until he’s on his side, cheek propped against his hand, giving Yunho a look like he wouldn’t mind eating him. “I am _deadly_ serious.”

“You’re not going to take a picture of me in racy underwear,” Yunho declares. He can feel Hongjoong’s eyes on his back like a brand, raking down his spine to his waist like a physical touch and only just contains the urge to shiver. “My junk has so far stayed off the internet and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What if it’s not for a picture? What if I just want you to model them for me?”

It’s an offhand comment easily played off, but by the time Yunho can spin around and, he’s not sure, word vomit a confession or pull an explanation out of Hongjoong, he’s already across the room elbow deep in Yunho’s closet tugging at a denim colored blazer. “Oh! Wear this on the drive up! You look good in blue.”

After a moment of gawping indecision, Yunho finally settles on, “I look good in everything.”

Hongjoong makes a low noise of agreement and leans back to smile at him. “I know, but you look especially dashing in blue. What do you want on your pizza by the way? I’m going to go place the order on your phone.”

“Surprise me.” As the sound of Hongjoong’s footsteps disappear towards the living room, he yells, “Do you need the passcode?”

“Not unless you changed it from my birthday,” Hongjoong calls back, followed by a happy laugh and bright, “It still is! You’re so cute!”

The whole exchange leaves him breathless from the emotional whiplash. Yunho can practically hear the dry timbre of Mingi’s voice miming the sound of a bullwhip cracking and bends down to place his head between his knees to hide the scarlet stain creeping over his face. 

He has two more days to enjoy the attention before being thrust back into the real world where Hongjoong is merely his best friend, his confidant at work, an unfilled space on Yunho’s relationship bingo card where the only reason his phone’s passcode is Hongjoong’s birthday is for practicality reasons — because it’s easy to remember — instead of the ridiculous, obsessive way Yunho likes to keep Hongjoong tucked close to his chest. Much like how they fall asleep that night, Yunho’s nerves scraped raw from the knowledge in the next 24 to 48 hours he’s going to be up close and personal with Hongjoong and all the conflicting emotional responses that come with it, while Hongjoong snores lightly into the curve of his neck. 

_Tell him_ , Mingi’s advice repeats like bad radio static. _You can’t do this forever_.

 _Fuck you, I can do anything_ , Yunho thinks to himself. And maybe after all of this is said and done he’ll believe it.

**\-----------**

The hotel is nice. Nicer than anything Yunho has ever visited on business trips anyway considering there’s a driveway leading into the parking garage lined with neatly trimmed topiaries and strung fairy lights. Their room holds the world’s largest king bed and a hot tub in the shape of a red heart sits situated offset from the bathroom in such a way it overlooks the hotel grounds assuming Yunho tilts his neck at the right angle.

Yunho whistles. “This is fancy. If the king rooms are all set up like this, I wonder what the honeymoon suite looks like.”

“This _is_ the honeymoon suite,” Hongjoong comments offhand while hanging their formalwear side by side in the closet still hidden from view by opaque zippered travel bags. “I asked for an upgrade and this is all they had.”

“You — aren’t the newlyweds supposed to have this room?” Yunho takes in the bottles of white wine chilling on the coffee table in the small living area with mounting trepidation. “Hongjoong, if you rented this out from under Jaehwan—”

Hongjoong snorts. “Oh please. There’s a much larger extended stay area on the very top floor he’s no doubt covering in his bodily fluids already.”

“Dude,” Yunho grimaces.

“It’s the truth.” Hongjoong turns to survey the room for himself, hands on his hips. “Lord knows I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself if I had y—”

He stops. Yunho can hear his teeth clack together and watches, fascinated, as Hongjoong’s ears go from their usual tan to the neon red of a stop sign.

“If you had—?” Yunho prompts.

“Nothing,” Hongjoong squeaks and spins around to march jerkily toward the door. “Let’s go check out the pool.”

“I didn’t bring swim trunks with me though,” Yunho says.

“Pool time!” Hongjoong yells over him, already half out the door and forcing Yunho to follow.

**\-----------**

The pool is just as egregiously over decorated as the driveway and the front desk. There are enough deck chairs lined out with guest towels folded neatly on the foot rests to hold a small army and not one but _two_ bars, one connected to the pool itself as a sort of swim-up and serve yourself type deal. Most of the clientele are sunbathing and/or barely keeping an eye on their small children swimming laps while they themselves get drunk on high quality mimosas. Except for two guys who look just as out of place as Yunho feels decked out in streetwear and comfortable workout clothes.

Hongjoong disappears to grab them drinks and Yunho decides, fuck it, he’s in a new place surrounded by snobs, he might as well introduce himself to people who seem more in his league.

“Are you guys here for the wedding?”

The dark haired one in streetwear possesses a resting bithface so icy Yunho can feel phantom goosebumps erupt over his arms, but the feeling is swept away when the man smiles, all dimple, and says, “The one going down tomorrow? Yeah, we’re the photographers. I’m San and this is Wooyoung.”

Yoga chic — Wooyoung — snorts. “More like I’m your glorified tripod holder.”

“Job’s a job,” San singsongs back. “Are you in the wedding party?”

Yunho shakes his head. “Just a tagalong to one of the guests. I’m Yunho.”

“Just a tagalong or a plus one?” San’s gaze is sharp, focused squarely on Yunho’s face so Yunho can see the obvious way his eyes flicker down to his mouth and back again. “There’s a difference.”

Wooyoung turns away with his face in his hands, a low whining snicker filtering through the gap of his fingers, while Yunho’s whole body flames up at the sudden attention. He’s not used to strangers flirting with him outside of a darkened club, made less embarrassing by the veneer of alcohol, or Hongjoong’s instagram.

“I—”

Hongjoong finds them then with his arms loaded with crystalline flutes of various liquids. “There you are! Yunho, look, you can just grab as many drinks as you want and they don’t say shit to you about it.” He hands one of the orange tinted glasses over with a grin, “Here. A mimosa that I think is 99% Perrier-something-something-expensive words.”

“It’s barely 3 o’clock,” Yunho tries to reason, but it gives him a moment to catch his breath and get his blood pressure back under control. “Anyway, this is San and Wooyoung, they’re going to be the wedding photogs tomorrow.”

“Oh. Cool.” Hongjoong jostles the glasses around to shake their hands and grins wide. “You want a drink? I think this one —” He motions to a large flute frosted over with condensation holding something distressingly green “— is just straight absinthe but I can’t be sure.”

“Oh my god, _yes_ ,” Wooyoung starts, already reaching for one before his hand gets smacked out of the way by San.

“We have work to do in less than an hour, you lush,” he laughs over the sound of Wooyoung’s offended cries. “Raincheck?” To Yunho he pointedly says, “Maybe we can share a drink after the ceremony.”

Yunho agrees, because what the fuck else is he going to say to that, and they watch San and Wooyoung hustle a large bag and two tripods back into the hotel lobby where a small gathering is beginning to form — possibly wedding related, possibly complaining about Hongjoong thieving from the dead-eyed moms running low on champagne and orange juice.

“What was _that_ ,” Hongjoong questions once San and Wooyoung are out of range. 

“I think I was getting hit on,” Yunho guesses and bleats a loud, “Whoa!” when Hongjoong turns to him so fast two drinks go sloshing towards Yunho’s khakis. “Shit, Hongjoong, be careful!”

“You’re not allowed to get hit on by anyone but me,” Hongjoong wails, sounding wounded and pissed in equal measure. “We’re on vacation!”

Yunho takes a few of the glasses away before Hongjoong can drop anything. “Sorry?” 

“You should be,” Hongjoong grumbles, stomping back to the open bar where he pilfers a generous fifth of whiskey from the shelf. The bartender allows it because he’s clearly not paid enough to babysit men going through some sort of emotional crisis in the middle of a pool house at the peak of summer.

**\-----------**

They don’t make the rehearsal dinner, which Yunho is secretly glad for, because Hongjoong is still tipsy verging on drunk by the time 5 o’clock rolls around so they opt instead to stay in and order room service and pay for a night of HBO.

“I can’t believe that guy,” Hongjoong mutters around a spoonful of lobster bisque. “Did you tell him you were taken?”

“In not so many words.” Yunho leans over to spear some of Hongjoong’s asparagus. “I said I was tagging along with one of the guests.”

Hongjoong’s spoon goes clattering to the service cart. “That’s terrible! You’re supposed to tell him we were together and madly in love with each other!”

Heart curdling up defensively in his chest, Yunho breathes hard through his nose. He can barely say that with a straight face to friends he’s known for years, let alone some guy he’d spoken to for all of fifty seconds. 

“I’ll say whatever you want me to say tomorrow,” he tells him instead. Hongjoong still has a murderous glint in his eye but says nothing. In fact, he continues to say nothing all through the remainder of their dinner, sulking into the tiramisu and the slice of German chocolate, until Yunho gets fed up and digs into his sides to tickle him back toward normalcy.

“You’re acting like a kid who’s been asked to share,” Yunho gripes down at him, very aware of their positioning: Hongjoong flushed and breathless beneath him, still smiling faintly with residual laughter, laid back on the bed with his black hair haloed around his head. “I’m not going to be celibate forever.”

Hongjoong’s laughter dries up. “I know,” he whispers. “I’m not asking you to be, I just — I’m —”

Yunho waits. Hongjoong searches his face with his mouth popped open, something clearly on the tip of his tongue, except he closes his mouth and lets his gaze skitter away to the closet where their rented formals are waiting to be worn.

“We still need to take a picture of your tux on the floor.”

Yunho groans. “Hongjoong, for the love of god, quit changing the subject.”

Hongjoong winces. “I — can we —” He turns back to Yunho with wide rounded eyes, like he’s terrified of something. Like he’s terrified of Yunho himself. “After the reception tomorrow, we can — I’m trying to figure something out.”

They’re in the middle of Gyeongsangnam, far enough away from the coast the ocean is nowhere near visible, yet Yunho can hear the rush of it clear as day over his eardrums, in his veins, pulsing down through his fingertips until they go numb from the pressure. His tongue sits thick and inarticulate in his mouth. “Figure what out?”

Hongjoong looks pained. “Ask me again tomorrow. When I’m sober.”

**\-----------**

Yunho hadn’t peeked at Hongjoong’s suit, which is perhaps a terrible mistake because the instant Hongjoong returns from the bathroom trying to button his waistcoat and flatten his hair at the same time just about gives him a stroke. He’s all dark lines and darker material, the black satin piping along the lapels catching under the lights so that Hongjoong practically _glows_ under the backlighting of the bathroom doorway.

“Fuck, I hate these stupid buttons! Why do they have to make them so sma— _”_ Hongjoong pauses in the doorway. He visibly gulps. “ _Oh_.”

Yunho furrows his brows at him. “ _Oh_ what? Do I look weird?”

He glances down at his own deep navy three piece to make sure he hadn’t missed a button or done up everything lopsided in his haste to get ready. They have thirty minutes to finish dressing, walk down to the carpeted conference hall newly redesigned for wedding gatherings, and then spend four to six hours making disgustingly infatuated faces at one another across any given room. Not that it’s going to be very hard on Yunho’s end, considering.

“No.” Hongjoong sucks in a tight breath. “No, you look amazing. Just like I knew you would.”

His voice is tender, catches Yunho offguard while he’s still vulnerable from the reveal of Hongjoong in a suit so that he’s still standing rigid when Hongjoong reaches out to tug the ends of Yunho’s jacket, smoothing his hands over the pockets along Yunho’s hips.

“You always look amazing,” Hongjoong whispers, hoarse, and adds a quiet, “Thank you. For humoring me by being here.”

“Not like it’s a chore,” Yunho whispers back, unwilling to speak too loud and break whatever bubble of intimacy he’s stumbled into. He trails his fingers over Hongjoong’s shoulders under the pretense of straightening the topmost layer. “Where you go, I go.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for taking advantage of the fact you’re always around.” Hongjoong stares pensively at Yunho’s red pocket square. "You don't have to do the PDA thing today if you're uncomfortable."

The only thing he's uncomfortable with is the weird tension forming between them in this room. They haven't had honest to god _tension_ since Hongjoong found him blowing snot bubbles through his tears in the bathroom all those years ago.

Yunho shakes his head. "I'm not uncomfortable. What's a little kissing between friends?"

Hongjoong slumps forward and breathes long and loud, and says, "Okay," and, "Hurry up then, asshole, we've got a grand entrance to make."

"Me?" Yunho squawks. "I'm not the one still wrestling buttons!"

**\-----------**

The banquet hall is beautiful — all gold and red and pink florals threading through the stark white decorations dotted on each table and the pillars on either side of the carpeted walkway. Yunho takes it in while holding tight to Hongjoong’s hand, allowing him to guide them from table to table to introduce themselves and say hello to colleagues. Hongjoong brought a gift, since he’s still a good guy, deep down, and traditionally one does not show up to a wedding empty handed. They see San and Wooyoung making the rounds between tables, pausing briefly to wave at each other. San pointedly looks at their intertwined fingers to which Yunho can only shrug. 

Jaehwan’s mother apparently spies them through the throng of well wishers and enthusiastically waves Hongjoong over, kisses his cheeks and asks how he’s been doing now that her son wasn’t bothering him.

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong laughs. “Isn’t it bad luck to speak of Jaehwan that way on the day of his wedding?”

“Ah, that fool,” she sighs wistfully. “I begged him to bring you into the family so long ago but he never listened. Don’t get me wrong, Hyunjin is a wonderful girl and they make each other very happy, but— ” She tuts lightly. “I miss making kimchi with you on the new year.”

“We can still do that any time.” Hongjoong reaches over to tug Yunho close. “By the way, this is my — this is Yunho. He’s accompanied me today.”

Yunho bows deep, more to hide the confusion he’s feeling by not being introduced as a boyfriend or a partner. A significant other. _Something_ other than just his name. Jaehwan’s mother considers him with flinty eyes, her mouth pursed up tight like she’s peering down into the very root of him and deeming Yunho worthy or not.

“Very nice to meet you, Yunho,” she quietly murmurs back. “Keep our Hongjoong close, mh? He’s a precious one.”

“I know,” Yunho answers, reflexive, ignoring the way Hongjoong’s fingers spasm on his elbow. 

Apparently it’s the right thing to say because the terrifying glare she’d been pinning him to the spot with disappears, and Jaewhan’s mom ushers them to their place with a smile and warm wishes for the future.

“That was scary,” Yunho confesses when they’re finally seated towards the back corner, nearly hidden. “I thought she was going to shiv me in the kidney if I said the wrong thing about you. Is your actual mom that terrifying?”

Hongjoong giggles to himself. “Not really.” He directs a secretive smile towards the front podium. “She likes you more than me anyway.”

“She’s never even met me though.”

Hongjoong rolls his lips between his teeth. “I, ah, I might talk about you a fair amount when we’re on the phone. She asks about you constantly.”

Yunho blinks. His world tips itself sideways. “You — talk about me. To your mom.”

“Yes.”

“Enough that I’m her favorite?” The lights begin to dim, organ music queuing up from the overhead system, so Yunho slides forward so he can whisper under the music, “What are you saying about me?”

“Shh,” Hongjoong hushes him, but his shoulders are shaking with repressed laughter and he grabs Yunho’s thigh under the table. So.

The ceremony makes him cry. Jaehwan cries. The only one who seems to have been able to keep a straight face through the whole thing had been Hyunjin, who’d dabbed at her new husband’s tears with the end of her veil while laughing bright and twinkling at the display of emotion. Yunho thinks they look good together. He might not like Jaehwan for deeply personal reasons, but he appears happy, and most importantly Hongjoong looks happy, and at the end of the day that’s all that really matters to him. 

Hongjoong tugs him up and away from the table as the guests begin to filter back out to the neighboring room for the reception and all its food and liquor-y goodness. 

“Are we not going to pretend makeout for your ex?” Yunho asks when it becomes apparent Hongjoong isn’t directing them next door but back up to their room with a skip in his step.

“No,” Hongjoong drawls out happily. “We’re done here.”

“But—”

Hongjoong turns to him then, still red-eyed and grinning. “Remember when I said there was something I needed to figure out?”

Yunho stumbles on the last stair leading to the elevator. “Did you?”

“I did,” Hongjoong nods. “And I’d like to discuss it with you in the privacy of our room, if that’s all the same to you. Or we can go eat fancy finger foods and watch old people get drunk enough to dance disco. Up to you.”

"The room—" Yunho swallows, his throat suddenly so dry it clicks together, "The room sounds good."  
  
The tune of Hongjoong's laughter and his giggling, "I thought you might say that," follow them into the elevator, up to their floor, and behind closed doors.

**\-----------**

Hongjoong has Yunho sit on the edge of the bed while he paces back and forth like a caged animal. 

“So,” he begins, and turns again on his heel to head in the direction he came from.

“So,” Yunho repeats, waiting and watching.

Hongjoong spins back. “So, I may or may not have realized the reason Jaehwan and I never worked out is because I— because—” He muffles a scream into his palms and turns again. “Oh my god, why is this so hard? It’s just you!”

“Will it help if you pretend I’m someone else?” Yunho leans back on his elbows and considers the view from their window. “Just pretend I’m Seonghwa and this is one of your little gossip sessions behind Yeosang’s back.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong agrees.

“Alright,” Yunho prompts when Hongjoong still doesn’t elaborate. “So?”

“I’m in love with Yunho,” Hongjoong says, clear as day, and Yunho immediately loses his balance on his elbows and slides back against the bed with a shocked, brainless wheeze. “I’m in love with Yunho and I don’t know what to do about it because he’s my best fucking friend, and that’s _weird,_ but I daydream about sucking him off in the third floor bathroom.”

“Oh my god,” Yunho whispers feelingly at the ceiling. “What?”

Hongjoong continues mercilessly, “I would very much like to peel you out of that suit using only my teeth.”

“Jesus christ, what is happening?”

“A lot.” Hongjoong finally looms over him, his face nearly purple with embarrassment and chewing aggressively on his bottom lip. “Say something, Yunho, I’m dying here”

“ _You’re_ dying?” Yunho can only gape his mouth like an idiot — a _moron —_ as everything he’s ever wanted is presented to him on an imaginary silver platter. “Pinch me.”

Hongjoong nose screws up. “Dude, what?”

“Pinch me,” Yunho reiterates. “I can’t tell if this is real or if I’m dreaming.”

“I’m not going to pinch you,” Hongjoong says reproachfully. “But, I mean, if I did, are you — is this a bad dream or a good dream?”

“It’s the singular best dream I’ve ever experienced in my life,” Yunho tells him through the stumbling weighty thud of his heart jack hammering against his ribs. He reaches up with shaking fingers until he can latch them in the hairsprayed tangle of Hongjoong’s hair and drags him down until they’re nose to nose, blissfully mouth level. “Also if you don’t kiss me in the next two seconds, I’m going to—mmph!”

He doesn’t find out what he would have done, thankfully, because Hongjoong at least knows how to take direction and crushes their mouths together hard. He tastes like summer heat and the fruity wine coolers passed around before the ceremony, like all of Yunho’s sad repressed daydreams come to life beneath his tongue.

Hongjoong breaks away with a low moan. “If I tell you I actually snuck in lube and condoms, would you be mad?” 

“I would call you an opportunist,” Yunho laughs, giddy, and grabs a handful of Hongjoong’s ass through his trousers, because he’s _allowed._ “If you’re not back in thirty seconds I’m going to peel myself out of this suit.”

“Rude,” Hongjoong growls _into Yunho’s mouth_ , leaves him with another bruising kiss and a shaking finger pointed at Yunho's nose. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dare think of it,” Yunho agrees dreamily. He’s been pining for something like six years, eight months, too many days and hours and minutes to count, but lying here on expensive linens in the same room as a heart shaped hot tub, lazily palming himself, everything — all of it — seems worth it.

“Ah! I said don’t move!” Hongjoong groans. “That included your hand, mister.”

“Got bored waiting for you.” Yunho lifts his head to take in the disheveled glory of Hongjoong pouting in a half-unbuttoned three piece. “You took too long.”

Hongjoong’s eyes darken, blown wide with lust and something else — something sweeter — and he touches Yunho’s knee tenderly. “Far, far too long.”

Yunho tugs him down, greedy, because he knows they aren’t talking about the lube or the condoms or the trek from the bed to the overnight bag still sitting by the door. 

Hongjoong meets him half-way.

  
**\-----------**

"What did I tell you," Seonghwa crows on their return to work, two days later because Hongjoong wanted to make frequent and extended use of the heart shaped tub. "What did I say, huh? I said it was going to lead to something else." He turns to Yeosang with both hands outstretched. "Pay up, bitch."

Yunho watches them exchange bills trying his damnedest to muster up some sort of righteous anger, but all he feels is truly happy for the first time since he'd been found sobbing beneath a bathroom sink. Also sore, though that's a complaint for another day.

Hongjoong peeks his head over the cubicle wall at lunch with a bashful smile and a brown bag held over his head. "Hey, boyfriend. You ready for lunch?"

"I am." Yunho takes the bag from him and throws it into the nearest trashcan while Hongjoong snickers. "I'll buy this time."

**Author's Note:**

> the most relatable thing i have ever written in my life is a sticky note i attached to my computer that reads "yunho in a tailored suit: grr bark bark" and i think everyone (ie: hongjoong) can agree.


End file.
